In Dreams He Came
by Evening Starbossa
Summary: Erik travels through time and space to wind up in central New Hampshire, in the year 2011.  How on earth will he manage?
1. Of Coffee and Keyboards

**A/N: No, I said. It's been over-done. I don't write comedies, I argued, especially when it comes to POTO. Erik's character has too much depth...I've been studying his emotions for so long...**

**And yet here I am, about to write exactly what I had never pictured myself writing. Why? I have no idea. I guess I got tired of my sister pestering me for a comedy. Never one do disappoint my public, here goes. Apologies in advance for any and all Erik OOCness. Any complaints may be forwarded to my sister through your feedback and reviews. As always, I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters.**

** _"In dreams he_**_ came..." _At least that's what I thought I should have been singing at three o'clock that morning. _No, at three in the morning, I should be asleep, not listening to some deep voice muttering under his breath! _I mean, I should have just kept on sleeping and seen where that dream took me. But no, I just had to open my eyes and investigate. After all, that tiny part of me explained, there's something strangely familiar about that voice. And of course, once suggested, I knew I would never be able to rest peacefully until I found out just what was causing my sleep to be interrupted.

And so, I forced my heavy eyelids to lift themselves. No! Ten more hours! They complained. Most of me would have agreed with them at that moment. In fact, they had, as I hadn't even gotten into a sitting position just yet. _Yes, just close your eyes and ignore it..._ But try as I might, the voice continued, like a swarm of mosquitoes holding conference right beside my ear. I swatted, but my hand hit only air before thumping back onto my nice comfy soft mattress. The motion didn't go unnoticed, however, and the voice stopped. _Good. I can get some sleep._

An hour passed. At least, that's what I would like to think. In reality, it had only been fifteen minutes. Yes, fifteen minutes of the same muttering, mumbling, unmistakeably familiar voice, until I couldn't take it anymore. With a roar of pent-up frustration, I scrambled out of bed, completely neglecting to unwind my feet from my nice thick warm blankets. Tripping over the seemingly endless material, I fell to the floor with a crash that should have woken me from my dream. If, in fact, it were a dream. Nope. All I got was pain and a face full of carpet. "Nice soft carpeted floor..." I mumbled.

"Mademoiselle, are you quite all right?" A shadow fell over me then as he knelt down to check on me.

"No. If I were all right, I'd still be asleep." I didn't care who it was. He was disturbing me, and he had better have a good reason to be in my room at three in the morning. Still in my this-is-only-a-dream-and-I-am-in-control mindset, I lifted myself up, stumbled to the nearby foot stool, and searched around blindly for my glasses.

"Were you looking for your spectacles, Mademoiselle?" Cold metal touched my searching palms, and I hurried to put my glasses on. Upside down. I didn't care. Send him away and get back to sleep. Yup. That was the plan all right. Until I saw who it was. Cue scream and faint.

**When I awoke,** he was mumbling again, only this time an occasional bang and thump went with it. I was back on my bed, nicely tucked in, and my glasses were resting on my chest. Finally realizing how very un-dreamlike this was turning out to be, I slowly lifted my glasses to my face, this time putting them on correctly, before speaking. "Pha—Erik...?"

"Your piano is broken." He was standing over my electric keyboard, pressing down hard on each key.

"It's not either broken. Merely turned off. And it's a good thing it is, what with your constant mumbling and banging around. You could easily have the whole house up and in confusion at this point." I was standing now, and I shuffled over to the keyboard, pressing the on/off switch. Yawning, I rushed through a very simple 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' before stepping aside so he could study it.

"How did...what...remarkable..." As I watched him fiddle around with the keys(that automatically light up once pressed), the rest of my mind slowly began to wake up. Waaait a minute...

"Is that my mask you're wearing?" He didn't even look up before replying.

"I need it more than you do. Why on earth do you have one, anyway?" He turned away from the keyboard then, and I could see with complete relief that the plaster was all still in one piece: a full face mask, half white, half fleshy colored, to fit over my glasses and still look somewhat authentic.

"It's for...er...a masquerade my sisters are planning..."

"Silly foolish things, masquerades. Waste of time when you don't even know what it's like to depend on a mask..." was the only thing I was able to make out before his voice faded into more mumbling, and he banged out a few notes before speaking again. "And what, pray tell, were you planning on going as?"

"Not what. Who. And I'm going as you."

"_Me?_" The single word was followed by a fit of laughter, and I could feel my face growing redder by the 'ha'.

"That's right, go ahead and laugh. I should think you would be flattered." I crossed my arms.

"Yes...well...forgive me for laughing, Mademoiselle, as I know what it's like to be laughed at...it's just...you...me...we're nothing alike! Besides. Why should anyone want to be like me?"

"Oh, now, none of that stuff. This is a comedy after all..."

"What?"

"Oh...nothing...ignore me..." I bit my lip sheepishly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I should be asking you that. All I know is I stepped through my mirror, and I was all of a sudden falling down some stairs..." We both looked toward my closet then, which just so happens to also contain a set of stairs leading to the attic. Yes, the door was open, and a mangled coat hanger was on the floor in the doorway, apparently having been used to unhook the lock from the other side.

"Well don't ask me! I didn't build this place. I've only lived here twelve years, and so far, you are the first fict-uh...visitor I've had come through there. Normally they use the front door downstairs."

"And I suppose you think that I had something to do with this? I don't even know where I am!"

"You're in America. New Hampshire. The year two-thousand-and-eleven." I extended my hand. "Sarah."

"I'm...Erik..." He shook my hand weakly, still trying to register everything I'd said.

"Well, Erik, while you ponder this, do you mind if I go back to sleep?"

"Sleep...? Yes...you sleep while I play the music of the night."

"I think not. It's morning anyway, technically. The keyboard stays off for now. But by all means, take my rocking chair and foot stool. It looks like you need the rest yourself." He didn't argue, but went over to the chair in question. He made no move to take off his..._my_ mask, however, until he _thought_ I was asleep.

**Piano music**. Piano music with the occasional 'ooh' and 'ahh' in between. _Oh no, he's discovered the 'tone' button._ Before I could even think about how I was going to explain that no, there is not a full orchestra hidden inside the keyboard, my tired eyes fell on a large cup of dark liquid sitting on the back of the instrument. And his hands were shaking. Oh. No. "Erik, is that..."

"Coffee? Yes, yes it's coffee. Would you like some?" At least that's what I _think_ he said in that rushed, hyper string of words.

"How much have you had?"

"One, two, five sips..."

"_Sips?_ And you're this energetic already?"

"I was unable to sleep, and so I ventured downstairs to explore. Found your coffee pot nearly empty. Took me a while to figure it out, but I made more."

"And exactly how many scoops of coffee grounds did you use?"

"Scoops? I don't know what you're talking about. I merely filled the basket tray thing to the top."

"Oh dear me," I groaned into my hands.

"Don't worry, I cleaned up the mess."

"That's not exactly what I'm worried about, but thank you."

"Care for a taste?" He once again extended the cup in my direction, but I held up my hand.

"I'll get my own, thank you. That is, after I get dressed..."

"Right. I'll er...be on the other side of that curtain..." He gestured toward the Indian blanket I have hanging outside my doorway. He started to take the keyboard with him, but as it was plugged in, he fell flat on his face as soon as it came unplugged. I stifled my laughter, mainly because I knew how dangerous he could be. He glared up at me anyway from the pool of spilled coffee, as if the whole thing was somehow my fault.

"Sorry, Erik, but it needs to be plugged in in order to work."

"Plugged in?"

"Er...attached...to that thing...oh, it's all very complicated, especially for this early in the morning. Just take my word for it." Rubbing my forehead in frustration, I watched as he got back to his feet. It was then that I noticed how very soaked and coffee-stained his clothes had become. "Well, lucky for you, it's my laundry day, Erik. Here...take my bathrobe and go in the room next door to change." I thrust the only clothing item I own that would fit him—my blue fleece robe. He made a face at the thought of wearing something of mine. "It's either that or smell like coffee all day."

"Fine. But you had better hope that your washing is done before I go back." Without a single word more, he whirled on his heel and exited the room, using every ounce of dignity he had left.

After cleaning up the broken coffee cup and coffee puddle, I quickly changed into thin black pants and a solid blue T-shirt. It was the middle of summer, but I wasn't about to cause more time travel/culture shock than necessary by wearing shorts. As I slid my watch onto my wrist, I grumbled at the time displayed. Six o'clock. Normally I don't emerge from my nice comfy bed until at least eleven. Well, there wasn't much I could do about it now. Grasping my laundry basket, I left my room and dropped the basket in front of the door Erik was behind. "Erik, are you quite ready?"

"No. I've changed my mind."

"Now, Erik, really. I need to wash your clothes!" The door opened just wide enough for him to throw the bundle of clothes into the basket, and he closed the door again with a slam. I kicked the basket aside and proceeded to knock relentlessly on the door. "Erik, you can't stay in there forever!"

"Watch me!"

"Erik, don't be stubborn. Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really, no."

"Erik, please. I promise I won't laugh if you just come out of there right now."

"Oh very well." The door finally opened again, and Erik stepped into the hallway. Behind the mask, he was glaring daggers at me, daring me to even smirk.'

"Thank you. Now come on. I'll show you how we wash clothes in the twenty-first century."

**A/N: Bear with me as I make the transition from heavy drama to utter madness. A couple things. First, yes, I really do have a plaster mask like the one that was described, and yes, I do plan on wearing it to a Masquerade dressed as the 'Phantomess' of the Opera. But do I dare tell Erik that I'm going as the female version? I don't think so. Anyway, more to come soon. I hadn't planned on this as being multi-chapter, but as usual, plans change. Feedback is always welcome! Thanks!**


	2. Breakfast with a Phantom

**A/N: Thank you, Darksider27 for helping make the washing machine scene a whole lot better! Once again, I own nothing!**

**"Welcome to the** laundry room..." I set the basket down on top of the dryer. Erik looked around, puzzled.

"Where's the washer women? I clearly remember a room filled with washer women who would clean the linens at the opera house."

"Sorry, Erik, but here and now, we do it ourselves. Of course, we have some help..." I motioned to the washing machine and dryer. His puzzled expression was soon replaced with a look of curiosity as I lifted the lid. He slightly jumped when I started the water, but quickly composed himself. As soon as the clothes were in, I picked up the jog of detergent. Just then, I felt his hand on my own.

"Could I try?" Behind the mask, his eyes were filled with genuine childlike curiosity, and I nodded.

"All right...just take off the cap and fill it with the liquid in here, then pour the liquid into the washing machine and close the lid." I handed over the detergent and went into the kitchen to plan out our breakfast. It wasn't long before he joined me, smirking proudly at his accomplishment. "Now that that's done, what would you like to eat?"

"I'm not..." He started to reply, but his voice was soon lost behind a loud noise coming from the laundry room. I paled, but went to investigate anyway. _Oh. My. Snapping. Word._ Soap bubbles were oozing down the washer and all over the floor. Surrounding myself in a mask of calmness, I backed up into the kitchen.

"Umm...Erik? Exactly how much detergent did you use?"

"I didn't count how many cap fulls...I just kept filling it and pouring it until the jug was empty...why?" I groaned and merely pointed into the laundry room. He followed my finger with his eyes. The next thing I saw was a blue blur dashing out of the room a whole half-second before I heard his yelp. I immediately followed him to the other side of the house, finally spotting him cowering in a corner of the living room. "Take cover, woman! It's going to explode!" He pulled me down to the floor.

"It is not. It's just soap suds." I stood back up, but he clung to my legs as tightly as his shaking arms would let him. "Erik, this is ridiculous. It's not going to hurt you."

"Yes, but what about my clothes?"

"They'll just be extra clean, is all. Now come on, get up." As he stood up from his crouching position, I backed away and watched him make his way to the laundry room. After a few moments of watching him stare at the soap bubbling out, I grabbed a handful of dish towels from the kitchen. Handing him half of them, I knelt down and began wiping up the mess. Thankfully, he got the hint and helped me.

Finally, we got it cleaned up, and I tossed the towels into the hamper. As I turned back around, I saw him start to lift the lid on top of the machine. "Watching them won't get it to work any faster, Erik. In fact lifting the lid makes it stop completely." He frowned, but replaced the lid anyway. "Now then. Breakfast. Bacon and eggs good enough for you?"

"I said I'm not hungry. I will have more coffee, however."

"Oh no you don't. Too much coffee on an empty stomach is not good for you."

"Technically, I didn't even finish my first cup. You made me spill it."

"Excuse me? I did nothing. And you're still not getting any more coffee until you eat something." I planted myself in front of the coffee pot, glaring up at him in my pre-coffee-early-morning tiredness. Surprisingly, he backed down, leaving the kitchen to find a chair in the dining room.

"I'd like some toast as well, if you're going to insist on playing hostess."

"My but you've changed your tune quickly," I mumbled under my breath.

"What? Something about music?" I heard him call.

"Never mind! Just an expression!" I began gathering the ingredients, knowing that the sooner I had everything cooking, the sooner I'd be able to clear my mind of this confusing morning. I wasn't about to pretend to know how Erik ended up here of all places, let alone how he was going to get back. So it would be pointless to even think about it, unless I wanted to lose every trace of my sanity. Which I didn't.

Before I could think any further about not thinking, everything was finally ready. I quickly turned off the burners...with everything else going on, an added kitchen fire would have been the last thing I needed.

Once I had filled two plates, I carried them into the dining room, nearly dropping everything on the floor in the process. For while I had been rushing to put breakfast together, Erik had been bored enough to fold every single napkin into a perfect rose. And now the table was covered in paper flowers. Regaining my voice before he even noticed my entrance, I remarked, "Those are quite lovely, Erik, but where am I supposed to put your breakfast?" He looked up long enough to give the food a once-over.

"Where's the coffee?"

"I told you. After breakfast." I started to plop his plate down in front of him, but then he made a sound that seemed like a cross between a shriek, a gasp, and a yelp; certainly not something I'd expect out of his mouth. I quickly lifted the plate back up and immediately saw what had caused his alarm—I had accidentally crushed his latest creation. "Sorry..." His response to my sheepish apology was a death glare. _Think, Sarah, think!_ "I'll uh...get that coffee..." Placing his plate in his hands, I dashed back into the kitchen. I only had to study the coffee maker for a few seconds before deciding to toss the remnants of the overly thick 'coffee pudding'. Even though I started a new pot, I knew that my visitor would either complain about it taking too long or grow suspicious of the sound of it brewing. Thankfully, we had a whole pitcher of iced coffee in the fridge, and I poured him a glass of it. "Cream or sugar?" I called in the sweetest tone possible.

"Black, of course!" I could hear the 'you-should-know-this-by-now' tone in his voice, and I bit back the urge to retort. Nope. Best not to play with fire. Instead, I set the glass down in front of him, avoiding all paper flower thingies. Erik lifted his head from the plate; he had set the fork aside and was wolfing down every crumb as if he hadn't eaten in days. Remembering the events of where he was coming from, I guessed there had to be some truth to that theory. Not missing a beat, he handed over his now clean plate with one hand and picked up the coffee in another.

The next thing I knew, coffee was being spewed across the table. "What on earth was _that?_" He stared into the cup with the most repulsed look on his face.

"Iced coffee. It's very popular here, especially in the heat of summer." He said nothing in reply, and my attention was drawn to the total mess on the table. A certain line from a certain song came into my head. _No, I won't say it. It's too much...best to keep silent..._ "I remember there was mist! Coffee mist upon a vast flowery table..." As I sang, I grabbed my own plate and cup and was on the stairs before I could hear his footsteps close behind.

Now, you must understand that I am a mere four-foot-ten, and so compared to Erik's height, you can imagine how he easily caught me. At least, my ankle. Well, what else could I do? I fell flat on my face right into the plate of bacon and eggs. I never did find my cup of coffee, nor did I care at this point. I can only imagine that it was flung into the far end of the upstairs hall. Was I angry at this point? Absolutely not. As I lifted my head and turned to face him, I can imagine that his silence was due to the shock of seeing me, red in the face, two fried eggs stuck to my glasses, laughing my hysterical head off. As I choked down my laughter into shaky, breathless giggles, he appeared to be reminding himself of the reason behind his pursuit.

"That song...where did you hear it?"

"I..uh...it's a long story..."

"Well I don't appear to be in any hurry." He motioned around at our surroundings, hesitating when he saw all four of my cats staring at us from every possible angle at the top of the stairs. It was the little calico that made the first move, and she crept down to where the bacon lay, now crumpled. Ever so cautiously, she grabbed one of the biggest pieces before dragging it back upstairs.

"Fine. I owe you coffee, you owe me breakfast. We'll talk in the kitchen." I moved past him down the stairs.

"Hadn't you better clean that up?"

"The cats will eat it. Otherwise it would just go to waste." I shrugged. We started back to the kitchen, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Wait. _I_ owe _you_ breakfast? And how, pray tell, did you expect me to fulfill that responsibility?" I whirled around at this, completely surprised.

"Erik, you mean to tell me that you spent how many years down in your caverns and you never cooked for yourself?" I watched him shift his gaze to the floor, moving one foot out in front of him in a circular pattern.

"Antoinette usually just brought bread, a few vegetables...and how could you possibly know so much about me? Unless, of course, I was correct in my initial assumption that..."

"That _I_ brought you here? Goodness, Erik, you'd think I would have been better prepared for you if I had!"

"Hmm...true...unless you're a very good actress..."

"Trust me, Erik. If I were lying, I'd be giggling right now." He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "And that little fit on the stairs was caused by complete frustration and lack of sleep." He immediately closed his mouth with a frown, but his eyes were no less suspicious. Just then, four furry blurs zoomed past us, nearly knocking us both to the floor. They came to an abrupt stop at the water dish, meowing and hissing at each other. _Okay, so the bacon might have been a bit salty..._ Smirking, I looked back at Erik, who was watching the cats drink. I sighed, inwardly thanking the cats for changing the subject. "Now look. Seeing as the thought of cooking overwhelms you, I'll take care of it. In the meantime, you might want to clean your coffee flowers off of the table."

"Who else lives here?" The question seemingly came out of nowhere.

"My parents, four of my siblings, and the cats. Although my parents and one of my sisters are currently on vacation."

"And they're all still asleep?"

"I believe so..." Just then, my brother stirred from his position on the TV room couch. The sudden motion caused Erik to jump a foot, but he quickly composed himself. But aside from a few tired mumbles, there was no further indication of David getting up anytime soon. Silently, I gently pulled Erik into the kitchen. "I'm actually surprised that they haven't gotten up yet, what with all this commotion we're causing."

"Mademoiselle, might I remind you that it was you who fell on the stairs?"

"Only because you tripped me!" I placed a soaking wet dish cloth in his hand, and he nearly dropped it. "For the table." I answered his unspoken question. "And unless you can salvage your artwork, that bucket next to my desk is where the dirty napkins go." He frowned at this, but said nothing as he stormed out of the kitchen. Finally alone, I gave up on any chance of having bacon and eggs at this point. Toasted PB and J...that's simple enough. While the bread was toasting, I prepared two more cups of coffee. One hot and black, the other iced with white chocolate mocha flavored creamer. By now I was so sick and tired of breakfast that I had almost lost my appetite. Almost. I knew if I skipped, my stomach would be an angry male lion in an hour.

Finally, everything was done. Balancing my plate on my arm, I carefully carried everything into the dining room, where Erik was wiping the last of the coffee droplets off of the table. "Your coffee, Monsieur..." I extended the mug to him as best as I could. Taking it, he brought it to his lips.

"Well, it's about time...I...OW! What are you thwying to do, burn me, woman?" He held his burnt tongue out of his mouth, and once again, I had to suppress a giggle.

"I just can't win with you, can I, Goldilocks?"

"What did you justh call me?" He tried to glare, but with his tongue sticking out like that it really ruined the message he was trying to get across.

"Never mind. I'm putting creamer in that coffee, and you're going to like it." I set my breakfast down on the table and went back into the kitchen for the white chocolate mocha. When I returned, he was bent over the table, trying to pull my sandwich apart and study its contents. At this point, I was brave enough to lightly slap his hand, and he grabbed my wrist in response, glaring daggers at me once again. I looked away then, turning my attention to pouring the creamer into his coffee. "There. It should be cool enough now."

"Mademoiselle, I will thank you not to strike me again."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that hard." His grip on my wrist only tightened, and his glare got even more icy. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I would prefer to eat my sandwich whole. Just ask me if you're curious about it. And it's peanut butter and jelly. Very sticky, but I was too tired to make anything else." He finally released my wrist then, but didn't apologize. We sat down, and an awkward silence fell over us.

"You were going to tell me how you knew that song." He finally pointed.

"Oh yeah...that..." I took a sip of my coffee, stalling for time as I thought of where I was going to begin.

**A/N: Sorry to leave it like that, but I didn't want this chapter getting too long! More to come soon...please feel free to review! Thanks!**


	3. Dinner and a Movie, Sort of

**A/N: I gotta say, it feels so good to see the reviews rolling into my inbox! Thank you! As always, I own nothing!**

** "Well?"** Erik set his empty coffee cup down on the table, glaring at me with impatience.

"Give me time! I'm trying to think of how to word this without completely weirding you out or making you angry."

"It's a bit late for that..." Erik scoffed. Just when I was about to crumple the rest of my sandwich up in my fist, one of my older sisters, Hope, stumbled into the room. As soon as she saw Erik and I, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Huh?"

"Good morning, Hope!" I greeted in the most cheerful voice I could muster. "Hope, this is Erik. Erik, my sister Hope. Now if you'll excuse us..." I gathered up our empty dishes and brought them into the kitchen. After filling a large glass with water, I walked back into the dining room, motioned for Erik to follow me, and with another grin aimed at Hope, I led the way back upstairs.

"This had better have something to do with answering my question." Erik growled from behind me as we entered my room.

"It does, believe me. Just don't ask me to explain what you are about to see."

"I suppose that's fair." I moved my desk chair to the other side of the room and motioned for him to sit. The swivel motion startled him at first, but he soon got used to it. Setting the water on my side table, I turned on the TV and the VCR, popped in my copy of the "Phantom of the Opera" movie, and settled into the rocking chair. Erik never glanced my way; he was too busy staring at the TV screen. "Am I supposed to read that?" He exclaimed when it got to the warning.

"Technically, yes, but _you _don't have to." I replied. "Oh, and by the way, ignore the black and white scenes." I added. He simply nodded and leaned forward, completely mesmerized by the whole thing.

Throughout the movie, the only times he took his eyes off the screen was whenever I opened my mouth to sing along. The first time, during 'Think of Me', he looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but deciding that at least I was no Carlotta, he said nothing. He also ignored me as I sang with Meg during 'Angel of Music', and during 'Phantom of the Opera' he was so focused on Christine that I don't think he even heard me. However, when it got to 'Music of the Night', he watched me instead, perhaps too pained by the memory to watch the scene play out. His eyes widened when I opened my mouth to sing, and I was afraid he might get angry at me for singing his song. However, during the word 'soar', my voice matched his exactly and so any anger was soon lost. _After all, _I inwardly argued, _I only sing that one small part._ Finally, the song ended, and as Meg came into view, Erik's attention snapped back to the screen. "What on earth was she up to..." He mumbled.

"Why don't you ask her when you go back?" I suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd just be arrested if I ever show my face in the opera house again."

"Suit yourself..." I shrugged.

Pretty soon, the movie got to the 'Notes' scene, and when the last note was read, Erik let out a loud groan. Seeing me looking at him, he gritted his teeth before explaining. "I...demanded...that...Christine...be...cast...as...the...Countess!" He hissed. "And then...I let her go...so she can really become...Countess!" I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at this realization. Or rather his facial expression, because there was nothing funny about his heartbreak.

As the movie went on, Erik grew used to me singing with pretty much everyone, and so he spent most of the rest of the movie wincing, moaning, calling out for Christine, and growling at Raoul.

At one point during the rooftop scene, I watched Erik clench his fist and start to cry when his onscreen self was picking up the dropped rose. I couldn't take it. Every time I'd seen this movie, I had always wanted to do this, and now I had the chance. Slowly, I got up, walked over to him, and gingerly wrapped my arms around his shaking shoulders. At first, he tensed up, and I was afraid he was going to shake me off, but he seemed to change his mind. It was just as well, because the mood in the movie changed then, and so I went back to my seat.

As the scene changed to 'Masquerade', I heard footsteps approaching my door. Before I could even think of pressing the 'pause' button, my younger sister Susan burst through the curtain, singing along at the top of her lungs. "Masquerade! Pa-oh hi..." Her eyes fell on Erik just then, and as her face turned a shade of red deeper than I had ever seen before, she backed up slowly. The next thing I heard after the curtain was closed was a heavy thud, right at the exact moment that 'Red Death' took his first step down the grand staircase. Perfect timing, I thought, and then, Maybe I should go check on that...

Erik beat me to it, however, and I quickly pressed the 'pause button' before following him to the doorway. As soon as we got there, we found Susan flat on her back, the calico cat sniffing at her face and looking oh so innocent. Remembering how Patches likes to hover by my doorway, it was easy to put together what had just happened. Just then, Susan raised one hand. "Owww..." she mumbled weakly. "I am...okay!" Erik helped her to her feet.

"Would you care to join us, Susan?" I asked once I was sure she really was okay. She was staring at Erik in complete shock, and so she didn't answer right away. "No, I don't know how he got here, so don't ask." I answered her unspoken question. She didn't reply, but moved past us into the room, taking over the rocking chair. I would have protested, but I was still wrapped up in the movie events and so I took the bed quietly.

The rest of the movie went by fairly uneventfully. All too soon, it came to the final confrontation. Knowing what was coming, Susan and I gathered around Erik, who was once again on the verge of tears. I would have turned the movie off then, I really would have. But I wanted him to see that last little scene with Meg finding his mask. After all, I don't write Meg/Erik fan fics for nothing. But as Erik watched, there was not one trace of curiosity on his face. Instead, he reddened in anger. "So, I'm not gone one minute and already they're taking souvenirs?" I stopped the movie then, as I didn't think he felt like seeing Christine's grave at the moment.

"Erik, I still say that you should talk to Meg before you jump to conclusions."

"Antoinette would kill me first." His tone was a stubborn one, and even as the screen went black, he kept his eyes on it. Susan slipped out of the room in the awkward silence that followed. Finally, when the VCR clicked to a stop, Erik jumped right out of the chair, causing it to swivel rapidly enough to cause a nice cool breeze to reach me all the way across the room. Deciding to ignore his shocked expression, I put the movie back in its place on the bookcase.

"Ready to see how to work the dryer now?"

"I don't really have much choice now, do I?" His bitter tone showed that his mind was still on the events of the movie, and I couldn't really blame him outside of the fact that, after all, he'd asked.

By the time we made it downstairs, Susan was sitting at the dining room table, eating a grilled cheese sandwich and holding a piece of paper. "Hope and David went shopping. We seem to be out of coffee." We both glared at Erik then, but he didn't seem to notice. Or care. Or he was simply acting innocent. Either way, he wasn't looking.

The dryer proved to be less threatening than the washer, and while I put the clothes and the fabric softener sheet in, I let Erik turn the dial and press the button. ONLY ONCE.(Cue Erik's innocent expression aimed at me) "Now then. Lunch."

*********** FAST FORWARD ONE HOUR, CUE RANDOM AND REPEATED BANGS, CRASHES, SMOKE ALARMS, ACCUSATIONS, THREATS OF PUNJABS, CAT-LIKE YOWLS, THUDS, ETC, ETC, ETC********************************

When Hope and David got home from shopping(really? One hour and all they were getting was coffee? Oh well. Uh, they stopped at Subway for lunch. There we go.), they found Erik and I sitting at opposite ends of the table, back to back. Erik was chomping on what appeared to be a bowl of burnt-to-a-crisp cereal, red-faced, the mask set aside on the table(still in one piece, miraculously). Susan had disappeared somewhere between the first "bang" and "crash", and don't ask me how the cats were able to retreat to the attic ceiling when both doors are closed and locked. Don't even ask me to describe how the kitchen looked. Just. Don't. Ask.

The bag Hope had been carrying landed on the floor about the same time as her jaw. "I...bought...coffee?" She managed. I nearly choked on the cold cheese sandwich I had been eating when Erik leaped across the table and practically dove into the shopping bag. In one swift motion, he had the lid off of the canister and was biting at the foil seal. Finally succeeding in gnawing through, he poured about half the grounds directly into his mouth, the rest falling on my bathrobe and the floor around him. Once the canister was completely empty, he looked around at all of us and simply shrugged.

"Coffee headache?" He suggested. Hope merely let out an exasperated sigh, whirled around on her heel, and went back out to the car from whence she had cometh. I merely looked up at Erik, throwing daggers of my own.

"For supper, we are eating out." I growled.

**A/N: Sorry for the heavy-ish drama in the movie-watching scene, but I hope the lunch fiasco makes up for it. More to come soon...in the meantime, feedback is always welcome!**


	4. End of Day One

**A/N: In the hilarity that followed me posting that last chapter, I realize I forgot something in the Author's Note. To get a vague idea as to how I sound when singing POTO songs, I have posted three videos on youtube. You can either refer to my profile and scroll down to the bottom of it, or search YouTube for "A Capella POTO: Think of Me", "A Capella POTO: Phantom of the Opera", and "A Capella POTO: Wishing You Were Here Again". BUT NOT NOW! First read this chapter, and then do the searching! LOL Once again I own nothing!**

** "Alright, Erik,** let's go." I finished my sandwich and headed for the kitchen.

"Go? Go where?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"The kitchen isn't going to clean itself, you know."

"You're right. It's not. Have fun!" He waved me away and sat down on the TV room couch.

"Oh no you don't. Ninety percent of that mess is all your fault. Move it!" I pulled him to his feet. Half-dragging him to the kitchen sink, I began running water into the dishpan.

"Look here, Mademoiselle. I'll have you know that I am the Phantom of the Opera, and the Phantom of the Opera DOES NOT DO DISHES!"

"Don't worry. I wouldn't want you to get my bathrobe all soapy." I walked over to the drawer and pulled out a dish towel.

"I was going to say..." Erik sighed with relief.

"That's why you're drying." I thrust the towel into his hands.

"Can't you just stick them in the dryer?" He whined.

"No, because first of all, the clothes are still in there, and secondly, the dryer is for clothes only." I started throwing dishes into the water. "Now you can either dry dishes or scrub the peanut butter off of the ceiling. Actually you're going to have to do that anyway, but it's up to you what you do first."

"What's the matter? Too short?" He smirked, resulting in me aiming the sprayer at his face. "Mademoiselle, I would rethink that move if I were you." He tried to sound threatening, but I saw his eyes widen behind the mask. Not one to back down from a water fight, I turned on the cold water and sprayed his bare feet. With a yelp, he jumped out of the line of fire. Rolling up his sleeves, a familiar almost-evil grin spread across his face. His next words confirmed where I had seen that grin before. "Now, let it be war between us both." _Oh dear..._ Before I could even think of how to get out of this, Erik had taken the dishes out of the dishpan. Lifting it out of the sink, he threw me one more grin before dumping the contents all over my head.

"Oh, now you asked for it." I sputtered. I sprayed him again, but he held the dishpan up in front of himself as a shield. To my utter dismay, I realized that I was filling it for him, and with another grin, he soaked me once again. That did it. My bathrobe or not, that absolutely did it. And if I ruined the mask, so be it. I'd simply have Erik do another one for me. He moved past me to the sink and began filling the dishpan once again. Little did he know that as soon as I pressed the sprayer trigger, his source of water would be turned against him. Cue inward evil cackle.

After keeping the water on him for several minutes, he finally made his way close enough to yank the sprayer out of my hands. By now, it looked like he was wearing a drowned puppet, and just as predicted, the mask was now in pieces on the floor at his feet. He wasn't looking at it, however. Grasping me by the shoulders, he lifted me off of my feet. Grinning even wider, he placed me in the half-filled dishpan so that my rear was completely soaked even more than it already was. He blocked my escape route, not that I really could have gotten out of this with my legs as short as they are. We both knew what was coming, and yet he was dragging it out as long as possible. He took a few squirts at my feet, and then worked the sprayer up to my face. I merely closed my eyes and mouth, letting the water hit me non-stop for a good five minutes. Finally, he set the sprayer aside. Sputtering, I managed to respond with a "Thank you, Monsieur. The weather outside is stifling." I opened my eyes then, and saw that he was frowning at his feet. Following his gaze, I let out a huge laugh. In his attack, he had stepped onto the soaked mask, and now the plaster was hardening into odd-looking shoes. Being the nice person I am, I aimed the sprayer once again at his feet to rinse the plaster off. As soon as his feet were free, he jumped out of the puddle and went into the laundry room. I was still stuck in the sink, so I couldn't follow him to see what he was up to. Ten minutes later, he reappeared wearing his almost-dry shirt and pants. "You look very handsome, Erik, but did you forget something?" He looked puzzled at first, but as soon as he saw the expression on my face, he hurried to get me out of the sink. "Thank you. You're too kind." I said with thick sarcasm.

"Do we have a truce, Mademoiselle?"

"Fine. Truce. Now you get to clean everything off the ceiling while I go change." I started walking away, but then I felt raindrops falling on my head. Wha-? Turning, I saw he had aimed the sprayer at the ceiling. Feeling very stupidly bold, I grinned. "What's the matter, Monsieur? Too short to reach it yourself?" He didn't chase me, however. He merely aimed the sprayer a little lower, hitting me in the back as I ran out of the room. So much for that truce.

**Don't ask how**, but we were finally able to get the kitchen clean just before suppertime. We ended up having to toss out the mask remnants, but I made Erik promise to make me another one. It didn't take too long to convince him. He'd been about to protest from his position sprawled across the TV room couch, totally exhausted. "Tomorrow, Erik, don't worry. There's no time left today." Relief swept over him, but it didn't last long. "Right now, we're going out for supper."

"Out? Out where?" He made no effort to hide the panic in his voice and on his face.

"McDonalds." At that one single word, everyone seemed to emerge from every corner of the house, causing a thunderous stampede that caused Erik to try to hide under the couch. Adding onto the confusion was everyone shouting out their orders repeatedly. "Everybody hoosh!" I yelled, and as I did, Erik _did_ manage to scramble under the couch. Ignoring him, I continued to address my siblings. "Look, we're all going, and I no longer work there, so there's no point in telling me your orders!"

"Mademoiselle, I do hope that by the term 'we', you are not including me..." the couch replied.

"Of course I mean you! I'm not about to recite the entire menu for you to choose from."

"You seem to be forgetting that I am without a mask."

"So we'll go through the drive thru. Now come on out of there!" Sheepishly, he emerged from his hiding spot.

As we made our way outside, I was thankful that Erik didn't ask me to explain the terms 'McDonalds' and 'drive thru'. He would find out soon enough, and 'soon enough' was here. As we got into the van, Erik stopped dead in his tracks. "Where are the horses?"

"What horses?" I grinned, thoroughly enjoying his confusion.

"The horses that pull the carriage, of course."

"We don't need any. This is a van, not a carriage. Now get in." Still completely confused, he got into the middle back seat. Susan and David sat next to him, and I took shotgun.

"Buckle up," Susan growled, pointing to the seatbelt.

"What for?" His voice was on the verge of being full of fear.

"Trust me." Without waiting for him to respond, Susan buckled him in with a satisfying 'click'.

"You dare to bind me to my seat?" he hissed. She said nothing, and the engine roared to life. Although I couldn't see him, I could clearly hear Erik scratching and straining against the seatbelt. "Let me out, woman! I've changed my mind! Just get me whatever you have!"

"Too late..." Hope spoke up as we pulled out of the driveway. He was silent until we reached the end of Langdon Street. The traffic was heavy on Highland Street, and Hope began tapping the wheel impatiently. "Clear?" She half-growled after about two minutes of waiting.

"If you zoom," I replied, immediately regretting that choice of words, because 'zoom' is precisely what she did. As we rounded the corner, I don't know what squealed at a higher pitch—the tires or Erik. All I know is he was digging his nails into the back of my seat so deep that I could actually feel it.

"Warning..." Hope said cheerfully, and Erik began muttering something about a Punjab.

At the drive thru, I was thankful that Erik was still buckled in, because I was positive that he would otherwise be pulling the speaker out of the ground and yelling into it. He ended up ordering a Big Mac out of complete curiosity, with a small root beer(I had to talk him out of yet another cup of coffee). After everyone had placed their orders, I decided on a Filet O' Fish and a chocolate shake.

We made it home with no incident, and as soon as Erik was free of the restraining seatbelt, he leapfrogged over David and fell to the ground. "Am I really that bad a driver?" Hope asked as she passed him.

"How on earth should I know?" Erik glared up at her. I finally convinced him to follow us inside, and while the others scattered with their meals, Erik and I sat at the dining room table. Just as I was about to take a bite, I heard Erik's voice. "Er...Sarah? Why is there bread in my sandwich?"

"All sandwiches have bread."

"Yes, but there's bread in the _middle_ of mine."

"That's part of what makes a Big Mac what it is. Just eat it." The long day was catching up to my patience. The rest of the meal was silent, up until he took his first sip of the root beer(he had placed aside the lid and straw). He immediately began to cough, shoving the cup across the table. "Yes?" I asked ever so casually.

"The drink's gone bad."

"No, it's just carbonated. Just drink it and you'll get used to it." He then proceeded to drink the rest of the soda all in one sitting. This was followed by a loud burp. Through his nose.

"Pardon me-OW!" He rubbed his nose.

"Pardon meow? The cats did nothing." I smirked.

"You did that on purpose."

"It was your choice to chug it," I shrugged.

**That evening,** Susan joined Erik and I in the TV room for our game shows. Erik took over my dad's reclining power-lift chair, although he frowned at the fact that it was tilted forward. Seeing his face, I showed him the controls before turning my attention to the TV. The next thing I heard was not "Jeopardy", but a high-pitched yelp. Glancing in Erik's direction, Susan and I were soon rolling around on the floor, laughing our heads off. We couldn't help it. Erik had reclined the chair so far back that his feet were high up in the air and his head was almost to the floor. He was now flailing around, sliding backwards and kicking wildly. "Help?" he finally pleaded. Still giggling breathlessly, I crawled over on my knees, grabbed the controls, and soon had Erik in a comfortable position.

"Jeopardy" started then, and as the first category turned out to be "Operas", Erik leaned forward in interest. We soon had a heated competition going on amongst us, never mind the actual contestants. Erik smirked whenever he got an answer right that we had no idea about, but whenever we were right, he looked as though he was about to throw us through the screen. "Wheel of Fortune" was pretty much the same, only Erik beat us ninety-nine percent of the time, regardless of whether or not he understood the phrase.

Afterward, while Susan stayed to watch an episode of "Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman" on DVD, Erik and I decided to call it a night. I led him to the bedroom that David never uses, and after tiredly mumbling little more than a simple good night, I continued to my own room.

**A/N: More to come soon! Thanks in advance for the feedback! :)**


	5. Erik and the FanFic World

**A/N: Okay this is too weird. The day I posted Chapter 4, we not only went to McDonald's, but guess what one of the 'Jeopardy' categories was? Yup. OPERA! Too weird! Anyway, this chapter's really going to be fun...because this is the chapter in which Erik is introduced to the world of fan fics. One of which happens to be 'Phantom of the Glen' by TheTamster.(Thank you!) Once again, I own nothing!**

** Breakfast the** following morning was much less chaotic. Judging by the red circles around his eyes and the scowl on his face, Erik had apparently not gotten any sleep the night before. I decided to avoid commenting on that fact, however, and instead announced that I had items due at the library. "If you would like, Erik, you may use the keyboard while I'm gone..." I don't think he even heard the last part of that sentence, as he could already be heard playing up a storm by the time I finished speaking. Shrugging and shaking my head, I gathered up the borrowed materials and went to see if Susan wanted to join me. As it turns out, she was already waiting for me on the porch, and we were soon on our way.

When we got back, I immediately brought my stuff up to my room. Erik was hunched over the keyboard, scribbling hastily on a sheet of notebook paper he had apparently turned my desk upside down in order to find. I was about to say something about the mess when a loud noise outside signaled the approach of the Dartmouth Hospital helicopter about to land at the hospital. One block away. Immediately, I was surrounded by numerous loose papers flying around the room, and my ears were filled with a blood-curdling scream. But that's not what I noticed, oh no. It was the fact that he had managed to fold himself up small enough to fit in my piano bench. "Giant. Killer. Birdy Bug..." His shaky voice called out.

"Would you get out of there? It's just a helicopter. It's not coming after you, it's simply going to the hospital."

"Ah...so that's why it sounds sick..." His voice was now filled with relief as he climbed out of the bench, and I decided to drop the subject. He would never believe me if I spent the entire day explaining. I also didn't have the heart to tell him that it would be leaving again, within the hour. Best leave that for him to discover on his own, I inwardly smirked. That'll teach him about going back on the truce.

"I see you've been busy..." I pointed around to the scattered sheets of paper.

"Merely keeping my piano fingers limber, Mademoiselle..." He shrugged.

"Uh huh. Listen, Erik, I want to show you something, but you must promise not to panic or ask questions."

"I make no promises, Mademoiselle. Show me anyway." Sighing at the truth in that statement, I led him downstairs to where my computer was. He simply stared blankly at it as I turned it on, but watched with absolute curiosity as I pulled up my profile.

"Okay, so, I just so happen to write stories about you, Erik...and I just thought you might like to read them while I make lunch." I explained as much as I could about how to use the mouse, what a drop-down menu is, and the concept of clicking. "When you're done with each story, just click on the words 'Evening Starbossa' at the top of the page and it will take you right back here. Got it?"

"Clicky. Mouse. Story. Got it." He said distantly. Taking his word for it, I moved into the kitchen, deciding on egg salad sandwiches. As an afterthought, I also decided to make a batch of brownies. _That will give him enough time to read..._

As I slid the brownie pan into the oven, I heard Erik call, "Do you mind if I read some of your favorites?"

"You're done with mine already?" My head was swirling...all those stories had taken me months to write, and he had read them in what...ten, fifteen minutes?

"You sound surprised that I read fast, Mademoiselle. I can assure you that I read every detail."

"Yes, well...I suppose if you want to read my favorites, go right ahead. You have plenty of time." I needed to sit down, but I still had yet to get the eggs boiling for the salad. _Fine. Just let everything run smoothly. No stress..._

Five minutes later, I heard him moaning. Glancing at him from my position at the stove, I saw him doubled over, hands covering his face, and yet he appeared to still be reading through the gaps between his fingers. Remembering the diversity in my list of favorites, I realized it could be any number of things that had him in such a position. Just then, I heard the keyboard. _What on earth is he up to...?_ Reminding myself that the eggs still had about five minutes, I went over to my computer and read over his shoulder. Oh. Dear. Me.

He had just left a review for Chapter Fourteen of the story "The Phantom of the Glen" by TheTamster. I didn't need to be reminded of what was contained in that chapter. And all the next ones. The fact that it was rated 'M'...certainly more adult than any of my stories and absolutely way more than what Erik was used to...

I quickly closed out of the window and stumbled to the nearest chair. Erik just sat there, staring at the screen and trembling. I could tell he wanted to speak, but he couldn't. Regaining my sanity, I went back over to the computer and opened up a game of Minesweeper. After I showed him an example of how to play it, he slowly reached for the mouse and began playing. _Oh go figure. He's won the first game already!_ Shaking my head, I returned to the kitchen.

Finally, lunch was ready, and I set our plates on the table. "Erik, food's ready." He didn't respond. He didn't even move. With a heavy sigh, I went over to see what he was up to. Oh. No. He had re-opened the internet, found Facebook, and had succeeded in becoming completely absorbed in a game of 'Collapse Blast'. And while waiting for 'lives', he was also arguing with one of the 'Erik' role players I have as friends. "Erik! What on earth are you doing?" I yanked the mouse out of his hands.

"What are you doing, woman? I was reaching a trillion points!" He was glaring Punjabs at be, but I didn't really care.

"Never mind, that! Whatever happened to Minesweeper?" At that, he just shrugged.

"It got boring after a while. And you might want to re-think some of your friendships. I've found a number of imposters."

"They...are...not...imposters...they...are...role...players..I...am...fully...aware...that...none...of...them...are...really...YOU!" I managed through my teeth. Finally taking the hint, Erik slid out of the computer chair and made a beeline to the table. I quickly did my best to apologize to everyone he had been talking to, hoping and praying that they were understanding enough to NOT 'unfriend' me.

After lunch, I had Erik play fetch with Patches by flinging hair elastics down the length of the dining room/TV room while I checked my email. I was, after all, an entire day behind, for some strange reason. The most recent was a message from The Tamster, in reply to Erik's impromptu review on her story. Mentally coming up with hundreds of excuses and explanations, I opened it. Less than a minute later, I was on the floor, giggling. Erik, also sitting on the floor beside the table, raised an eyebrow at me. "Go...read...what...she...had...to...say!" I breathed. Erik took one more glance at Patches, who was sitting at the other side of the room, waiting for _him_ to get up and get the hair tie _himself_. (Cats...cue eye roll) Finally realizing that she wasn't going to move anytime soon, he got to his feet with a sigh and stepped over me in order to read what was on the computer.

_"__I'm impressed, O.G. has found my story intriguing and chapter 14 has rendered him speechless. You ask why I would think of you in that way, well, why not?_

_And yes, no Christine. Why? Because she's a weak, indecisive fool who __doesn't know what a compelling and intelligent man she left behind when she __went with the fop. And if you ask me, they deserve each other._

_Now O.G. I have a really hard time believing you would really do that to a_ _woman; especially since I have fulfilled your greatest desire in glorious_ _digital print. As to the mask, you don't need it; I can truthfully say I've_ _seen worse. Also, good luck trying to_ _Punjab a bunch of 1's and 0's as this __chapter is only in digital format._

_Oh, and I do hope you continue reading chapter 15 and beyond after you've_ _recovered from your shock. And if you thought the chapter was shocking, you_ _haven't seen anything yet love._

_The Tamster_

_BTW Erik, you don't have to type out what you're thinking, you sound like a_ _soliloquy from Shakespeare._"

As he read it, I literally saw steam coming out of his ears, and it wasn't long before he was scrambling around for every scrap of string and rope he could find. Still helpless with my giggles, I could only watch as he made a makeshift lasso and proceeded to hang my computer monitor. "Um...Erik...it's an inanimate object. It cannot die because there was never any life to it in the first place."

"It's the principle of the thing." He growled. Shrugging, I got to my feet and went into the kitchen to start the dishes. I could always sneak down after dark and undo his attempt.

**A/N: Okay. So sorry for the delay, but TheTamster and I were plotting things. As you saw. And as you will see, if you so choose. Because Erik did in fact leave a review on chapter 14 of 'Phantom of the Glen' by TheTamster. Really. Go see for yourself. Simply go to my profile, click on my favorites, and you can see it. I will warn you, there is a reason for Erik's shock. So if you aren't into the really detailed...er...love scenes, I suggest you immediately go to the reviews(at the top of the story, it will be a number) and use the drop-down menu to navigate to the Chapter 14 ones. Many, many, many thanks to TheTamster for helping me pull this off! Thanks for the reviews...More to come soon!**


	6. What Is This Game You Play?

**A/N: Ok just so you know, I totally lack the creativity to make each day 3-4 chapters long, so it's probably going to go down to 1 day=1 chapter. Maybe. But, I have enough events planned for each day that it hopefully won't feel too rushed. I hope. Anyway, once again I own nothing!**

** The rest of** the day was surprisingly uneventful. But 'uneventful', a good story does not make. Sooo, let's skip ahead to the next day, shall we? Wake up, breakfast, blah blah blah...oh yes. Board games. How could I forget?

Shortly after breakfast, Susan suggested we all play a game of 'Clue'. Raising an eyebrow, Erik agreed. And so I simply had to join in, and Hope wouldn't miss it for the world. David, not one for too many games, decided to watch. After a heated debate between Hope and Erik over who was going to be Professor Plum(in the end, no one was, because both parties were filling the room with threats that were far from empty, and we couldn't have that, now could we?), the game started. Hope settled on Mrs. Peacock, Susan was Miss Scarlet, I was Mrs. White, and Erik was Mr. Green, though he kept glaring at the Prof. Plum piece. Susan took charge of explaining the rules, and Erik quickly caught on.

As the game progressed, it was becoming clear to pretty much all of us as to who had done it, and I at least soon figured out the weapon. It was just a matter of getting the room right. Two turns later, it appeared that Susan and I were racing each other toward the ballroom. She knew something, and I was hoping that it wasn't the weapon. Unfortunately, it was her turn, and she slammed her piece in the center of the room. "Mr. Green. In the ballroom. With the rope."

"You dare accuse me, Mademoiselle?" Erik growled.

"Can anyone disprove?" Susan asked, squinting back at him. I didn't need to look at my cards. I sat back in my chair, arms crossed, pouting. No one spoke up, and I could see Erik grinding his teeth.

"Care to make a formal accusation?" I asked, and Susan nodded.

"I accuse that Mr. Boddy was killed in the ballroom with the rope by none other than Mr. Green!" Susan announced oh so dramatically. This caused Erik to stand up, overturning the card table in the process.

"Not true! I wasn't even there! I don't even know where this place is!"

"Erik, for goodness sake, it's just a game! No one's about to arrest you!" I shook my head, causing the 'confidential' envelope to fly off the top of my head where it had landed. Susan reached out and grabbed the envelope before Erik could take it. After glancing at the cards, she smirked and slammed them, one by one, into Erik's apparently waiting hands.

"Green! Ballroom! Rope! I win!" She glared up at him, daring him to argue the evidence.

"It doesn't matter. I was really Professor Plum anyway." He handed back the cards and looked away, pouting.

"Let's not start that again." Hope spoke up.

"Shall we play 'Sorry' next?" I changed the subject.

"What's that?" Erik seemed to be holding back his interest.

"It's the game of sweet revenge..." I quoted from the box.

"Revenge?" A grin spread across his face then, and he quickly picked up the card table and sat down in his seat. "What are you waiting for, woman?" He then turned to Susan. "You will pay for that accusation, Mademoiselle..."

**Four hours**, five games, and ten headaches later(don't try to figure out that logic, you'll get a headache. Just trust me on that.), Erik, Hope, and Susan stormed off in separate directions. "And here I thought we were getting along so well..." I sighed, cleaning up the game that was now scattered around the room. David had retreated to the rec room the millionth time a game piece was thrown at his head(purely accidentally, I'm sure), and the sudden silence was overwhelming compared to the pure insanity only seconds before. Finally, after retrieving one more piece from underneath the couch, I decided to go see what Erik was up to.

Just as expected, I found him at the keyboard, playing furiously. "Come on Erik, at least you won the first three games." I slid onto the bed behind him.

"Yes, but then she just had to win...again..."

"It's just a game, Erik." He just kept playing as if he hadn't heard me, and I stood up with a sigh. "Well, I'm hungry. I'll go make us some grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches, okay?"

"I'm not hungry, so don't waste your bread on me." I rolled my eyes at this.

"I'll let you play Collapse..." Finally, he perked up and abandoned the angry song he'd been playing.

**As the day **went on, it was becoming evident how stifling the temperature was getting outside. Normal for that time of year, but still overwhelming. And so, as we sat around eating supper, it was announced that we would go swimming. Erik raised an eyebrow at that. "And where, pray tell, do you plan on swimming?"

"The river. Under the bridge."

"In public?" Oh, here we go...I sighed and braced myself for the inevitable argument. That never came. "Very well. You go do your swimming if you must. I'll simply stay here."

"But..." Now braced for an argument, I wasn't about to go without one.

"I'll be fine." I wasn't convinced. His voice was calm...too calm..."Mademoiselle, you may wipe that suspicious look off of your face. I'll have the keyboard, and with your permission, I'll have that Collapse game. What could possibly go wrong?" Oh, I wish he hadn't asked that. But I could see that he wasn't going anywhere, and no one else was willing to stay home in this heat.

"Very well..." I sighed and went upstairs to change into my bathing suit.

**"Well, the house** is still standing..." I breathed with relief as we pulled into the driveway. We'd been gone half an hour. What damage could he possibly do in that short amount of time. Oh, if I'd only known...

I stepped through the door.

I did not hear the keyboard, or the computer mouse being clicked.

No. What I did hear was Erik yelling at the top of his lungs.

The cats seemed to be meowing at the same volume level, every time he opened his mouth.

Their poor ears.

My poor sanity.

Because as I entered the dining room, those ten headaches mentioned before that had been spread out between all of us were now forming on top of each other in my own head.

The computer monitor was once again the victim of his Punjab.

Erik had used the mouse cord to do it.

He was now sitting on the floor. Under one arm was one of David's old stuffed animals. Susan's cell phone was perched on his left shoulder, under his ear. Our home phone was now in pieces in his lap, and he was studying each piece while apparently arguing with someone on the other end of Susan's phone.

Said other person sounded to be talking in Spanish.

Erik, apparently, does not speak Spanish.

"FOR THE HUNDRED MILLIONTH TIME I DO NOT UNDERSTAND A SINGLE WORD YOU ARE SAYING I DEMAND THAT YOU EITHER SWITCH TO ENGLISH OR GO AWAY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE TALKING TO THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AND YOU WILL CURSE THE DAY YOU DO NOT DO ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKS OF...HEY!" Erik growled at me as I took the phone away from him.

"Lo siento! Buenos noches..." I talked into the phone before handing it off to Susan.

"What on earth was that contraption?"

"A telephone. Just...like...the...one...you're...destroying..."

"I beg to differ, Mademoiselle. They are not alike at all." I was about to explain very loudly how similar they were, but David rushed forward just then.

"What did you do to Crazy?" He demanded, grabbing the teddy bear away from Erik.

"I believe what you are trying to say is thank you for what I did _for_ your bear..." Erik pointed to the now stitched-up arm.

"Oh. Thank you..." Relieved and a bit confused, David left the room to change into dry clothes.

"Now, then, Erik, you got some 'splainin to do..." I began tapping my foot. "What happened to you playing the keyboard?"

"Ran out of inspiration..." He shrugged.

"And...Collapse?" I pointed to the strangled computer. At that, Erik began mumbling under his breath something about time limits and ceilings. I nodded in understanding.

"The phone. Explain the phone..." Hope's voice was an impatient low growl.

"I was simply trying to find out where that noise was coming from."

"That so-called noise was someone trying to get in touch with us..."

"They should have simply send a letter. I've found letters to be very effective..." Erik smirked.

"Never mind...it's a good thing I'm a whiz with my Swiss Army knife..." Within minutes, Hope had the phone back in working order, and she proudly slipped the knife back into her pocket.

"Now my question is, how did you end up calling Spain on my phone?" Susan spoke up. "USING UP ALL MY MINUTES IN THE PROCESS?"

"Alright, will everyone just calm down and give the guy a break?" As silence filled the room, I realized that the voice had been my own. Seeing everyone's eyes on me, I continued. "You all act as though he burned the house down..." Erik winced at that. "Sorry..." I bit my lip, then turned to everyone else. "Now look. Susan, you can get more minutes. Hope, you were able to fix the phone. No one was seriously hurt, and you're all forgetting that he fixed up David's bear."

"Well..." Hope began.

"Well nothing. With all the things that might have happened, exploring the phones was nothing."

"True..." Susan sighed.

"That's better." I smiled. "Now, Erik, if you'll be so kind as to rescue that poor computer monitor, I'll be back in a few minutes."

After changing, I brought my bundle of wet clothes down to the laundry room. Ish. Because as soon as I got past the refrigerator in the kitchen, I slipped. On a puddle of hot coffee. "YOWWWWIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!" I screamed in regards to my burnt hands. Or bruised tailbone. Or both. "ERIK!"

"Oh, don't go in the kitchen. I er...might have made a bit too much coffee..."

"A BIT?"

"Oh Sarah! Remember! He didn't burn down the house!" Susan called in a sweet singsong tone of voice.

"Mmmmfignooginsnort..." I muttered, climbing to my feet and limping the rest of the way into the laundry room. Someone. Will. Pay.

**A/N: And now for a little treat for you all...it just dawned on me how fun it was to write something as Erik. And so, for the next chapter, I'm gonna take a little break from the day-to-day flow of things. Instead, I'm gonna have a little Erik Q and A session. To avoid plot-holes, I will ask that you first read his review in Chapt. 14 of 'Phantom of the Glen'(details on how to get there are in the ending AN for the previous chapter). Just so he actually knows where all the messages are coming from, and that people aren't all of a sudden aware of his presence here. Also I ask that you keep your questions at the same rating as this story (K+). So go ahead, ask away! Oh...do NOT ask about the book or LND. Everything I know about POTO is from the 2004 movie! Thanks! In regards to asking him to read/review your own stories...I'll see. Let's just say, if you do want him to read/review a story, make it one that is less than 5 chapters long, if at all possible. **

**I will keep my inbox open for a couple weeks. Any questions submitted after the next chapter is published, I will hold onto and maybe do another chapter of it, and if you submit after the story is complete, I will do another story at a later time. Just note that I'm about to go to college in a couple months, and so I won't have as much free time as I do now. Thanks for understanding! Can't wait to show your messages to Erik! :)**


	7. Dear Erik

**A/N: HUGE thank you to everyone who sent in their questions! I also want to take the time to thank Facebook Role Player 'Erik John Destler' for help in replying to Darksider27 and EnjolrasAmy's questions! Also, any stories that Erik reviewed in this chapter can be found by going to my favorite stories. Once again, I own nothing!**

** Later that evening,** after everyone had calmed down and everything had been cleaned up, I sat down at the computer to attempt, once again, to catch up on my emails. Within minutes, I was lifting my jaw off of the floor; most of the recent messages were from ...and I hadn't even published any stories recently! _Waaait a minute..._ "Erik! Get over here!"

"I didn't do it!" Erik called from the TV room, where he and Susan were watching the British comedies.

"Yes you did! And it's brilliant!" I heard him let an exasperated sigh escape his throat as he reluctantly came over to the computer. "It seems people have seen your review on that one chapter, and now they're sending messages to you..."

At the top of the list was a very familiar-looking name, and as soon as Erik saw it, he almost ran away. Almost. A short argument and glare-down followed, but finally he agreed to read what she had to say.

_"__Hi Erik, remember me? Have you read any further than chapter 14? Oh and ask her about the Phan art on Deviantart as well._

_**The Tamster**_"

There was that steam again, I observed as I glanced at his ears. Within seconds, I heard the computer keyboard.

_"YOU AGAIN! Yes, I remember you! Although I'd rather forget that...that...THING you call a chapter! Yes I said it! What are you going to do about it, Mademoiselle? Hmm? You made it quite clear that I could do nothing through this screen, so we are even in that regard._

_ In answer to your question, no, I have not read any further, because if Chapter 14 is only the beginning, I don't even want to THINK about what might be contained in further chapters. I would, however, be most interested in a brief summary of how the rest of this story plays out, as I most likely won't be here to read it all._

_ I assume, that by the term 'Phan art', you are insinuating that you have created drawings of me? I shall be most interested in seeing them, AS LONG AS they are not as intrusive as THAT CHAPTER was._

_ Good day, Mademoiselle._

_~Erik_"

The next one was from **angelofmusic75**(Erik raised an eyebrow at that name!), who asked him to read and review one of her stories entitled 'The Foul Taste of Murder'. As she wrote:

_"...M__y "Foul Taste of Murder" is now two chapters long... And VERY short... So if Erik [has] a little big of free time on his hands...? Might you ask him to read it? I would be ever so grateful!"_

"Fine...just so long as it isn't anything like..." He didn't need to finish, and I quickly found the story for him. After five minutes of growling, screaming, and sobbing, I heard him at the keyboard, composing his second review. I managed to look over his shoulder before he could submit, and it was a very good thing I did.

_ "(As Erik from 'In Dreams He Came')_

_ NOOO! CHRISTINE! I'M RIGHT HERE!_

_ *ahem* As 'Evening Starbossa' has so subtly reminded me, this is just a story after all. I hope. What am I saying? Of course it is! Otherwise I'd be...never mind._

_ Allow me to start over. Good evening, Mademoiselle. I am Erik, or as you call me, Christine's Angel of Music. I trust you have read my previous review, else you would not know I am here. As you requested, I have read your story so far. Pardon me, 'E. Starbossa' is trying to tell me something. *What? Be nice? But she...she...DON'T YOU DARE! Okay, okay, fine, I'll be nice.*_

_ My apologies. You have quite a talent, Mademoiselle. I'd say more, but I've been forbidden to do so, under penalty of losing all keyboard privileges. I will say that I was on the edge of my seat throughout these two rather short chapters, and unfortunately I will most likely be left hanging, as I am unsure just how much longer I will be here. Allow me to suggest one thing, however. Please. Don't leave Christine to wallow in her grief alone. She needs someone...she needs me..._

_ Hey...this is Evening Starbossa now. Erik began sobbing again, and this time he slid out of the chair and onto the floor. So I'll be quick in finishing this, because he needs a hug. As always, this is a wonderful chapter! Very sad, but wonderful! Don't leave me hanging too long! :)"_

As promised, I wrapped my arms around Erik's shaking shoulders, and he finally composed himself enough to get back into the chair and move on to the next message. Which immediately caused him to fly right back onto the floor in a fit of hysterical, half-evil laughter. I glanced at the screen and was soon on the floor right next to him.

_"So Erik, if it came to a choice between changing Carlotta's voice into a pig snort or a cow's __moo, which would you prefer, or would you still stick by your original choice of a toad's croak?  
><em>_**EnjolrasAmy (AKA Cosette Amy Fauchelevant, Marianne Enjolras, Morgana Amy Le Fay)**__"_

As Erik's laughter slowed to a dull cackle, he crawled on his knees over to the computer and typed his response from his position on the floor.

_"Good evening, Mademoiselle Amy Has-A-Lot-Of-Names(of course, come to think of it, so do I...)_

_ Allow me to answer with a question of my own. Were you trying to cause me to die of laughter? Because you nearly succeeded in doing so. Normally, thoughts of Carlotta cause me to shudder. But your question...*takes a deep breath and continues* _

_ Now then...__Carlotta, as a pig or a cow? That wouldn't fit. A little toad makes her less diva than she thinks she is, which she absolutely is not. Can you imagine it? A toad with a big wig? *laughs hysterically*__ (Come to think of it, her voice already sounds like one of those creatures...)*smirks* *__OW! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT STRIKING ME, MADEMOISELLE SARAH?*_

_ If anything, Mademoiselle Amy, you have succeeded in cheering me up immensely, so I thank you for that. If and when I ever get back to Paris and my own time, I will surely look back on that mental image whenever I get into one of my moods. Now please excuse me while I deal out a bit of revenge..._

_ Sincerely,_

_ O.G."_

By the time Erik had pressed 'send' on his reply, I was already on the other end of the room, ducking behind a chair. "Never mind me, Erik! Just answer the next one!" I yelled. Erik sighed but turned back to face the computer screen. And then he promptly roared.

_ "Aww, you remembered me and chapter 14, I'm flattered. And as for me not being able to do __anything about it, we shall see. *evil grin*_

_ That's really too bad that you won't be able to read further because you'll miss Christine kissing you and your re-match with Raoul and becoming part owner of the Opera Populaire. And as to you're not being here to read it, what are you doing next? Going to Disneyland? The Phantom and all those screaming children? Isn't that one of the inner circles of hell in Dante's Inferno?_

_Yes, I've done my own phan art, though it's mostly characters from my own story. You can see it on Deviantart and the easiest way to get there is to go to my profile on .net and click on the link for my homepage. If you can't figure that out, I'm sure my colleague would be happy_

_to help you. I will be the first to admit that I don't draw the best phan art as I'm out of practice. However, if you check out my favorites you will see some examples of very good artwork by some very talented artists._

_ Enjoy,_

_ **The Tamster"**_

"Sarah! Get over here!" He roared again. I cautiously approached him, quickly reading over his shoulder.

"Well? Going to answer her?" I blinked.

"Oh, I'll answer her all right..." He grinned evilly.

_"FLATTERED? You're FLATTERED that I remember you? I can assure you that it is far from a compliment as to WHY I remember you. It just so happens that your story has HAUNTED my dreams ever since I read that chapter! And unless you so happen to live in the same town as 'Evening Starbossa', you most certainly canNOT do anything to me. Besides, even if you DID show up here, you are not taking into consideration that I AM THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!_

_ ...Christine kissing me? I can assure you I've been there, done that, don't need to be betrayed again, thank you very much. As for Raoul, I'll simply take care of him when I go back. As far as becoming PART owner of the Opera house, I would much rather run it MYSELF. So you'll have to do far better than that, Mademoiselle. ...*Sarah, what's this 'Disneyland' she speaks of? It's...WHAT? AND PEOPLE ARE PUT ON DISPLAY? I don't CARE if it's willingly and they get paid for it! Out of my way!* HOW DARE YOU think that I would willingly go to a place like THAT? Don't you think I would have heard enough screaming children in my life? There. I hope you're happy. You've made me cry! GAAA WHY AM I TELLING YOU MY WEAKNESSES? YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE ME! *pause for deep breath*_

_ Now then. 'Evening Starbossa' has pulled up your artwork, and I am looking at it now. They really are quite lovely, Mademoiselle. *goes to the second page, 'Evening Starbossa' covers the last picture with her hand..."For your sanity, Erik. You'll thank me later."* I am glaring at you, Mademoiselle, because I can only GUESS what is behind 'Evening Starbossa's' hand. How DARE you...AGAIN? IS NOTHING SACRED?_

_ I will look through your favorites at another time, Mademoiselle. Right now my head is spinning. Good day!_

_ Signed, Erik"_

"Please tell me that's the last one from her!" He pleaded.

"Maybe it is, most likely it isn't. Just answer another one." I smirked. He uttered a low growl before turning back to the computer. This time, there was a message from **Darksider27,** and it went as follows:

_"Dear Mister Erik, Sir_

_I have been following your adventures in our time and wish you the best of luck, anyway.  
>First: Why was the lake always foggy back then? If you don't know then it's OK.<br>Second: where were you getting roses in the middle of winter?"_

Not missing a beat, Erik hit the 'reply' button.

"_Good evening, Mademoiselle. Thank you for your kind letter. I must say it's a lot nicer than SOME letters I've been getting..._

_ Now then, to answer your questions. First of all, __Why was the lake always foggy back then, you ask? Well, because it's cold there and the water is warmer than the air so that's why it's foggy._

_ As far as the roses are concerned, __ It's a s__ecret. *smirk* Well, I suppose I can let you in on it, since you've been so kind. There is a garden of sorts, somewhere in the Opera house.(THAT, I'll not tell anyone, mainly because it is part of my caverns.) If I could send you a white rose through the screen, I would. But for now, please accept my gratitude, and know that you have earned my friendship._

_ Have a pleasant evening, Mademoiselle._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Erik"_

"Erik, I'm proud of you. You handled that one well..." I smiled.

"Mademoiselle, it's easy for me to respond to kindness with kindness. If only TheTamster could figure that out!"

"Speaking of..." I pointed at the screen, and he followed my finger. (Cue defeated groan into one hand while opening message with the other.)

_"My story has haunted your dreams? Why Erik, you naughty boy! Perhaps that's a sign you should read the rest of it. I may not live in the same town, but I have managed to get under your skin apparently. Yeah, we all know you're the Phantom of the Opera, big deal. I deal with guys like you all day; I'm a billing supervisor for a global telecommunications company so I'm not afraid of you. Besides that, you're a frog and I'm German – enough said right there. _

_ So those weren't enough teasers for you, let me see what else I can come up with. Aren't you the least bit intrigued by where the relationship with S'ray is going? Aren't you interested in knowing if that chapter has made you a Daddy? Curious to see if there are any little Eriks running around yet? And what about what Raoul does to S'ray? And the fates of Madame Giry and Meg? Meg has a vampire pursuing her, don't you want to know if she's safe or not? And what of the vampires that now are in the opera house? How about what Cyd finds in your lair and the implications of it? What happens when I turn the pixie and brownies loose in your lair, what do they get into? _

_ I'm sorry I made you cry, would you like a hug? Besides, Disney isn't that bad, you'd probably love Pirates of the Caribbean. I don't know why you're telling me your weaknesses; I'm not qualified to provide you with professional help._

_ Oh, that picture, had forgotten about that one. Don't be mad at me, the phans voted for a picture of you and S'ray in an intimate embrace. Besides, it's not like anyone can see anything on you (not even your backside). Though I could probably do better with a live model. Care to volunteer?_

_ Pleasant Dreams,_

_ The Tamster"_

**"**Grikkin grakkin mumble grumble riefle fiaofle..." Erik spoke through his teeth as he began to reply.

_"WHAT NOW? *grumble mumble tries to take deep breath* How many times. Must I tell you. That I will not. Read. That story? And perhaps it's time you DID learn to fear me! Admit it. You're hiding behind that screen. I can assure you...two minutes down in my many caverns, I'll have you begging for mercy, you can count on that! _

_ I'm a...WHAT? A TOAD, MADAME? PERHAPS IT IS YOU WHO ARE THE TOAD! *Oh, don't roll your eyes at ME, Sarah! She started it!* _

_ Now then. As for all your little snippets you call 'teasers', you can be quite sure that after reading as far as I did in your story, I am fully capable of separating YOUR version of me from my REAL self. Anything you do to my story character and my story caverns has NO affect whatsoever on ME. Go ahead. Have a million 'little Eriks' flying around my caverns making a complete mess of everything. I DON'T CARE! And as for the Giry women, how dare you drag them into this! They have done nothing wrong!_

_ No, I do not need a hug, not from you, because I can see clearly that that offer was out of nothing but PITY. _

_ As for Disneyland, you can forget it. 'Evening Starbossa' says that it would cost far too much money, and I seem to have left my salary money behind._

_ And let me make one more thing clear to you, Mademoiselle. I will never. EVER. NOT IN A MILLION YEARS agree to 'posing' for YOU! You have lost my trust completely! *No, Sarah, I do NOT think that was too harsh. That was me being NICE!*_

_ GOOD DAY!_

_ ~Red Death(You had better get that hint, if you are the least bit wise...)"_

**As he finished** responding, the next message appeared, this time from Facebook. Shaking off my confusion, I opened it. Inside were a couple questions from someone with the initials **HDH**, and the questions were as follows.

_"Hello, Erik. If you don't mind, I have two questions for you._

_Will you marry me?_

_Do you still love Christine, even after she left you?_

_Thanks for reading this..._

_ Sincerely, HDH"_

**Erik hastily** pressed the reply button.

_"Mademoiselle(I'm assuming),_

_WHAT? I don't even...you don't even know me! How could you...why would I...and furthermore...*deep breath, dismisses it as a joke*_

_Are you seriously asking me that? Of course I still love her! Why on earth would you think otherwise?_

_My apologies if my answers sound rude to you...but after the time I've been having, I can only tolerate so much...therefore, I must assume that your questions were meant as a joke. If not, I apologize again. Have a pleasant evening, Mademoiselle._

_ ~Erik" _

**And then** there was yet another message from, yes, you guessed it, **TheTamster**. Erik didn't even growl or complain. He was too busy holding his breath.

_"__Chicken, you're chicken. Sorry, I'm not afraid of chickens. And I'm not afraid of guys who feel the need to bully 16 year old girls from behind two-way mirrors or who write threatening letters to opera managers and __frighten ballerinas by throwing their voice. You're going to have me begging for mercy in two minutes? Hah, I listen to music that's scarier than your caverns (look up Rob Zombie, Slip Knot, Marilyn Manson, Wolfmother, HIM, Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, Hollywood Undead and Ozzy). And as for hiding behind the screen, I don't think so. So you don't like being called a frog? How about a cheese-eating surrender monkey? Does that suit you better?_

_ And cut out the dramatics you big diva. I swear you make a better Carlotta than Carlotta. And for the record Eric (yes I mis-spelled your name intentionally), you started it when you reviewed my story. If you'd kept your big mouth shut you'd still be relatively unhappy as you were before._

_ Coward, too afraid you'd like what you read I guess. Either that or, no I won't say it, there are little kids that might read this and need it explained to them. As for not posing, you're probably afraid you won't live up to expectations. I guess the no small jar comment was just you blowing smoke. Christine is lucky she chose Raoul, she never would have been happy with you._

_ Pity you? The only one at your pity party is you. Grow up Erik, the only one who cares what you look like is yourself. Christine may have only been 16, but you act worse than my neighbor's 4 year old. And if I were you I'd be darn careful before Evening Starbossa has had enough of you and either throws you out on your ear or ships you off to someone else to have a few manners and some common sense knocked into that thick skull of yours._

_ Think that one over Red Dork (sorry, can't bring myself to be afraid of some guy in a red union suit)._

_ TheTamster"_

**Only then** did he growl, so loud that I was sure that "TheTamster" could hear him from where she was.

_"I don't know why I even bother talking to you, Mademoiselle, when all you do is hurl insults at me! *What's that, Sarah? So what if I insulted her first! She...she...(points at message) HOW DARE YOU LAUGH! Nevermind. I'll deal with YOU later.* Now then. You think I BULLIED Christine? How dare you! I did nothing but train her voice and give her comfort! What's so bad about that? And I'll have you know that it's impossible for music to be scary. (Evening Starbossa helps him look up a sample, places headphones on him, within seconds he is flying across the room) _

_ Uh...hi...this is Evening Starbossa...it appears we have lost Erik...oh there he is...crawling back to the chair. And for the record, you should see his hair! _

_ I'm back, Mademoiselle. And THAT. WAS NOT. MUSIC! And whoever said anything about me surrendering? I'm just getting STARTED! *"Now, Erik, enough of this." But... "End this argument once and for all. I'll not sit here all night watching you argue with her!" No one said you had to. You may go to sleep. "Erik..." Oh very well.*_

_ HOW DARE YOU COMPARE ME TO CARLOTTA? MADAME, THAT IS THE FINAL STRAW! I PROMISE YOU, AS LONG AS I'M HERE, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN WITH A THORNED VINE OF A PUNJAB! Oh wait. You'd just stand there waiting for me, and then you'd try to draw me, wouldn't you? NICE TRY BUT NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. AND IT'S NOT BECAUSE OF THE REASON YOU INSINUATED, EITHER. It's because I at least have the sense of decency and right to privacy! _

_ And furthermore, it is not MY fault that I didn't have a mother around to TEACH me said manners! If you must know, I had to learn those from watching the opera goers and from reading books! *Yes, yes, I know Sarah, I'm getting to the ending! But mark my words, I WILL have my say!*_

_Now then, Mademoiselle 'TheTamster' as you call yourself, I have been...er...requested to end this argument. And so I shall. Unless you can talk to me without insulting me(I rather doubt it) *OW! HOW DARE YOU SLAP ME AGAIN, SARAH!(long glare-down) Fine.* _

_ Ahem. I...apologize...for insulting your story, your overall talent, and yourself, Mademoiselle. You should know how...er...touchy...I can be about certain things. And if I went too far with my words, well, can you really blame someone who has had no one to help him learn to control his temper?_

_I suppose I must admit, judging by the number of responses we've given each other, I have clearly met my match. At least when it comes to messages. And as it seems we are getting nowhere with this argument, I see no reason why we should keep it up. So before I say anything I might regret, I'll close this. Good day, Mademoiselle._

_ ~Erik"_

** He was **about to throw the computer against the wall, but one more message appeared in my inbox. As he read the familiar username **Darksider27**, he immediately softened.

_ "Dear Erik Sir_

_ I am writing you this because there is something I feel you must know. No matter what happens there are those like myself who would do anything within their power to protect you. Now you may think I'm crazy or something but I assure you I am not, any time I even read stores involving you and something bad happens I just want to jump in to the story to do what I can to help. Even if it was just to yell at someone for what they said about you, and yet I can't which makes me feel helpless knowing there's nothing I can do. Look I know I probably sound annoying now so I'll shut up._

_ Shannon"_

_ "Dearest Mademoiselle Shannon,_

_ Your message is too kind for words. As I said previously, if I could send you a dozen white roses, I would. You have no idea how much I appreciate your loyalty despite the fact that we have never met. I will cherish your words forever._

_ Your friend,_

_ Erik"_

**With no messages left**, I turned off the computer with a yawn, watching Erik stumble toward the stairs, completely lost in thought.

**A/N: WOW what a wait that was! My apologies for the length of this chapter, but I simply had to answer each message fully. I hope his answers lived up to your expectations...and if it's any consolation for the long delay, I have most of the rest of this story written and ready to go! So keep the feedback coming, and more will come soon! :)**


	8. MaskMaking and PictureTaking

**A/N: Okay, back to the normal every day chaos. Enjoy! And thanks for your patience! As always I own nothing!**

** The next day,** I decided to choose an activity that would be much more relaxing for Erik. After all, he owed me. I looked over at him across the breakfast table. He was hunched over his third cup of coffee, staring distantly into the steaming mug. I could tell by the sight of his eyes that he hadn't slept yet again, and it seemed that he had spent the night crying over Christine. Yes, he needed this. "So, Erik...feel like re-doing my mask?" He perked up, but only slightly.

"Why do _you_ get the first mask?"

"Because. You owe me for destroying the other one. And there's plenty of plaster cloth, so don't worry. You'll get one too."

"Plaster...cloth? I don't believe I'm familiar with that particular material."

"Well, it's what we have, and so it's what we'll use. Let me just grab some paper towels and a basin of water..." After gathering all the materials, I led Erik upstairs to the rec room, where there was the right amount of space. I started to spread newspaper all over the floor, but then saw Erik smirking down at me. "Yes?" I questioned.

"You don't seriously expect me to work with you flat on the floor, do you?"

"That's how I did it before..."

"If you expect me to make a proper mask, you will sit up and lean your head back on that table." I rolled my eyes and stood up. As I approached the door, I felt his hand on my shoulder. "And where do you think you're going?"

"To get some pillows, if you don't mind. I refuse to be left with a stiff neck, especially if you expect me to put a mask on you." At this, he smirked even more, but released my shoulder.

Once I was finally comfortable, and I had explained the directions, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was then that I felt my glasses being lifted off my face. "Leave the glasses, Erik."

"But-"

"I need the glasses to see. Leave them on. That's what the paper towels are for...simply wrap them around the glasses to protect them from the plaster."

"Very well. But I'll have you know that you are making this very difficult." I said nothing as I felt the paper towels against my skin, and I closed my eyes. Just as I felt the first cold, wet strip go on, I heard the door creak open.

"Hello, Sarah! I'm videoing you!" I heard Susan's voice.

"Mademoiselle, you may watch if you wish, just don't get in my way. And whatever that is, get it out of my face!"

"Sorry..." Susan apparently backed away and settled onto the guest bed. As silence fell over us, I focused on the feeling of his artisticly gentle hands and the dripping cold strips on my face. As the next two layers were formed, I could feel him getting the cloth as smooth as possible, and I could just picture the focused expression on his face. He was definitely in his element, and I smiled.

"Don't. Move..." He growled, breaking the mood.

"Sorry..."

"SIT STILL!"

"I was just..."

"SILENCE!" He barked, and I slammed my lips shut, suppressing the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

If I thought the actual mask-making was bad, the waiting for it to dry was even worse. Because, as per 'Murphy's Law', my nose began to itch. And after the tenth attempt to scratch said itch, Erik decided to keep his hands clamped down on my wrists. I tried twitching my face a bit, which caused him to shift position. Now both my hands were gripped in one of his, and his other hand was on my jaw. "If you dare to move a single muscle, Mademoiselle..." His fingers were so close...I almost, _almost_, responded with a bite. But then I remembered the plaster residue that was most likely coating his hands, and so I merely sighed and waited some more.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, Erik gently tapped the mask to see if it was dry. I got my answer by him lifting it off my face, and as I opened my eyes, I saw how fogged up my glasses had become. "You might want to clean those, if you expect me to allow you to make my mask..." He gently set the finished mask on the far side of the table, and just as I had with my first mask, I was overcome with a tingling feeling in my hands, immediately remembering that one scene with Meg lifting Erik's mask... "Did you hear me?" Erik was looking at me now, annoyed concern on his face.

"What? Oh..yeah...be right back..." I got to my feet, stretched a bit, and then raced downstairs to clean my glasses.

**And then it was Erik's turn.** Being the less-talented of the two mask-makers available, I asked Susan to do the first layer. She was annoyed, but agreed. "Just the right side will do." Erik specified before leaning his head back on the table.

"Oh no you don't. It's easier for me to do this if you're flat on your back." Susan ordered. Erik opened his eyes with a scowl, but cooperated. While Susan formed the first layer, I used her camera to take a video. Just then, a tiny trickle of plastery water made its way down toward Erik's ear. Any second now...I smirked. I could have done a five-second countdown, because right on cue, Erik leaped to the ceiling with a piercing screech. "Great, now I'll have to start over..." Susan threw her hands up in the air. The still-very wet plaster was stuck to the ceiling and Erik's face.

"Something wrong, Erik?" I bit back my laughter.

"You did that on purpose!" He accused before proceeding to rip the plaster away from the ceiling and dropping back to the floor.

"Do you want a mask or not?" Susan continued cutting strips of the cloth.

"I think you know the answer to that..."

"Then take this paper towel and clean your face so I can start again. And this time, don't move!" Erik grumbled under his breath, but did as he was told.

It wasn't long before I took over for Susan, and after rinsing off her hands, she took back her camera. Ever so slightly, Erik opened his left eye to glare a single dagger at me, daring me to mess up his mask. I shot him an innocent 'who, me?' smile in reply, and I could have sworn I saw a scowl creep across his face before he closed his eye and relaxed once more.

Within seconds, I was making my best attempt to copy his movements in smoothing out the material. It was quite easy to get lost in the action of it; now that I had the first layer for an outline, all my energy was going into getting plaster all over my fingers and sculpting the mask into what I hoped Erik would be satisfied with. "Uh...Sarah? How many layers are you putting on him?" Susan asked after about ten minutes.

"Wha-?" I shook my head, bringing myself back into reality. "Oops..."

"That's not a very comforting word, Mademoiselle..." Erik growled.

"SILENCE!" I echoed his own words, completely taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't move. And judging by the thickness of his mask, he'd be completely immobile for the next half-hour. Dozens of ideas swirled around in my mind, but me and my caring self just couldn't carry any of them out.(or perhaps my overwhelming sense of self-preservation.) Phooey.

The half-hour passed rather quickly. I gently knocked on the mask, satisfied at the hollow sound. Before I could lift it off his face, however, he beat me to it and turned it over so he could see it. "Don't you trust me?" I pouted.

"Give me one good reason why I should." He growled.

"Uh, cause you'd kill me, after making me do it over, and my knees are stiff enough as it is."

"Very good. You're learning." He smirked, setting his mask down on the table next to mine. Standing up, he stretched ever so slightly. "It's passable. After all, it's only temporary."

"You're welcome, Monsieur..." I glared up at him. Not taking the hint, or perhaps ignoring it, he merely nodded and turned away.

After getting cleaned up and eating lunch, the inevitable happened. Erik insisted on Susan explaining what her camera was. She finally gave in and showed him both videos, then showed him how to take pictures. He tried walking away with it, but Susan grabbed it out of his hands before he could take a single step. He looked back at her, an expression of puzzlement and hurt on his face. "Here Erik, you can borrow mine...it's not as expensive as hers..."

Apparently, I should have been more clear on the time frame of this lending out of my camera, because he spent the rest of the day walking around, taking pictures of EVERYTHING. And very quickly, I came to realize that I wasn't getting my camera back anytime soon.

**A/N: Next chapter is coming soon...just 2 chapters left before...something. And I might put together an album on photobucket of pictures Erik might have taken. Just not right away because, well, because. :P I'll post the link on my profile when that is done so you can see. Reviews are always welcome, thanks! :)**


	9. The Return of the Coffee Addiction

**A/N: SO SO SO sorry for the delay in posting this. I totally ran out of inspiration for the longest time. BUT thanks to a friend of mine I met here at college, I now have enough material to finish this chapter. So, HUGE thank you to A.J.S.! As always, I own nothing.**

**The next morning,** I awoke to find myself in a pool of sweat. Ick. And it was only nine? I made up my mind right then and there that we were going swimming that day, Erik would come with us kicking and screaming if need be, and I wasn't taking no for an answer. He had a mask now, he had no excuse.

Besides. After last time, I don't think anyone was about to trust him.

Oh, _I_ did, don't worry. I'm just saying...

That being said, we stuck through the heat and humidity until around four. How we managed, I couldn't tell you. Let's just say there was ice involved, and perhaps one or two more water fights, purely innocent...ish. Finally, after the remnants of the most recent water fight evaporated, we took off for the river, and surprisingly Erik made no protest. In fact, when we got there, he was the first to dive in, trousers, shirt, shoes, and all(he was considerate enough to leave the mask on his towel, however).

Surprisingly, the river was not as crowded as I would have expected. The parking lot was full, and yet only a handful of groups were actually swimming. Then again, this particular spot also served as a boat launch for canoes, kayaks, and the like. It was just as well, I supposed, and besides, it was too hot to dwell on this observance.

And so, moments later, I was in the water doing underwater handstands and swimming underwater. Finally cooled off for the moment, I stood up and looked around for Erik. Within seconds I was frowning. _Glasses, Sarah. Don't forget your glasses!_ Muttering to myself, I slposhed out of the river and retrieved my glasses from my towel. Sight restored, I glanced around along the sandbar and quickly found Erik. At least, it HAD to be Erik. What I really saw was a massive sandcastle, and a pair of hands on the other side piling on more sand and water before sculpting it into a masterpiece. A few feet away, a little boy was sitting in front of his own creation, his mouth agape as he watched the artist in front of him. The shock soon turned into a frown as the little boy's castle seemed all the more like an anthill in comparison. And then I watched in helpless horror as the boy stood up and plowed through both castles, revealing Erik sitting on his knees, a handful of mud raised in the air and his mouth even more agape than the little boy's had been. I saw his fists clench before he threw the mud in the air, casting a glare at the laughing little boy.

All of a sudden, I felt very much cooled off. Just as he was beginning his verbal protest, I grabbed his arm and pulled him up to the van. Once inside, he continued his rant. Well, he was talking to no one, because I left him there to go get the others. After retrieving his mask, we all piled in and headed home.

Once we got home, I suddenly remembered something. "By the way, Hope, we're almost out of coffee again." The mere mention of the beverage caused Erik to perk up from his previous hunched over, sulking and muttering state, but Hope groaned and glared over at him. I would have glared as well, but the utter childlike face on him completely ruined that thought. And so, after drying off and changing, Hope was out the door again, this time Susan and David going with her. After the van pulled away, I turned to Erik. "Okay, Erik…I have email and Facebook to catch up on. If you'd like, you could watch TV…"

"Very well…" I showed him how to work the remote, and then went over to my computer. Within moments, I heard the channels being changed, and Erik muttering over the different programs. He apparently had the volume up at full volume and was now regretting it, because I heard a loud explosion followed by his voice shrieking like, dare I say, Carlotta? I turned around suppressing a giggle, and I saw him climb back over the back of the couch, his hair completely tousled. Giggling quietly, I turned back to the computer. A few minutes passed and I heard that he found a PBS special, showing an opera. Oh boy. I wondered if he-"Sarah!" Yup. I sighed and got off of the computer to join him. He didn't even look at me as I sat down next to him on the couch, his eyes were completely transfixed on the screen. I knew better than to talk or even breath during this, and so I sat back and watched him and the program. Besides. I had never seen an actual opera before.

After about half an hour, I heard him sniffle beside me. I turned to see a single tear falling down his face, another teardrop revealing itself at the bottom of his mask, and he took the mask off to wipe at it. At least I could understand why he was crying…after all, the leading lady had just passed away, her true love sobbing over her. I had to admit, the music was moving, and even though I didn't understand a word they were saying, I still had my own tears flowing. Just then, the screen changed to show a fundraising telethon room, and the announcer began talking. "Oh now that just ruins it." Erik scowled and plopped the mask back onto his face. He then turned off the TV and went into another room. I giggled a bit before going back to the computer. Within seconds, I could hear the keyboard being played loudly in my room, and I smiled.

The peacefulness didn't last long, however. As the van pulled up, I went to the door to see if they needed any help. "We got Subway!" David called to me, and I nodded. I then turned my attention to Susan and Hope, who were coming up the ramp with the bags.

"You got the big thing of coffee, right?" Before Hope could answer, I was plowed over from behind. The door all but fell off its hinges as a black and white blur leaped over the railing, and in one motion he grabbed the can of coffee grounds from Hope, looking exactly like a desperate football player, and finally stopping on the van roof, ripping into the foil top. While he was busy repeating "coffee, coffee, coffee coffee" in a hyper operatic voice, Hope grinned at me and subtly showed me a second can of coffee grounds. I grinned back and nodded, and they hurried inside while I tried to get Erik back down off of the van.

He finally relented when he noticed the crowd of neighbors gathering to watch him.

I knew this because he plowed me over again as I was sheepishly making my way back into the privacy of the indoors. My face full of dirt and my back covered in a trail of coffee grounds, I glared at him as I sat down at the table to eat the now cold toasted ham and swiss sub sandwich. He innocently looked up at me from his own sandwich, and I couldn't help but notice that he was now sprinkling coffee grounds onto the contents of it. Unbelievable. While he was chomping into his creation, Hope quickly grabbed the almost empty container from him and managed to hide it before he even realized it was gone.

By the time supper was over, without needing to look outside the window, we could tell what all the heat and humidity had led to. The only reason why I didn't plow Erik over in revenge as I ran outside to run around in the downpour was the fact that with this particular rain came thunder. And lightening. And a power outage. Great. "NIGHT TIME SHARPENS HEIGHTENS EACH SENSATION! DARKNESS STIRS AND WAKES IMAGINATION! SILENTLY(yeah right) THE SENSES ABANDON THEIR DEFENSES…." Only a fictional Opera 'Ghost' from the 1800s would be HAPPY that we lost electricity. And I thoroughly blamed the coffee for the fact that he was utterly ruining that song. Oh no. I had to stop him and stop him NOW. Insert smirk.

"Oh Erik, you DO realize that without electricity, you can't play the keyboard…"

"!" Hands reached out through the darkness and grasped my shoulders. "MAKE IT COME BACK!" Grinning, I continued the song.

"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the life you knew before…"

"Not funny, Mademoiselle. I need my music."

"Well you're just going to have to wait and think of something to do in the meantime." I heard him mutter something under his breath, his voice fading as he left the room.

Ever have one of those Amelia Bedelia moments when you wish you had been more specific? That moment came for me three hours later, when the power finally returned. Because, as I looked around the illuminated room, I saw a trail leading into the kitchen. A trail of coffee beans.

No, Sarah. Do not go into that kitchen. For sanity sake, just go upstairs and get some sleep. Do not-"!"

Coffee grounds. Coffee grounds everywhere on every single possible surface, including the wall. And to top it all off, the batch of chocolate cookies Susan and I had baked earlier in the week was nowhere in sight. What WAS in sight was a pair of legs dangling from the top of the fridge. Instead of glaring at him right away, however, I found myself looking up at the kitchen ceiling, where a couple dozen dents had formed, about the size of a certain Phantom's head.

I should have stopped to ponder how he could have possibly done all this without anyone hearing him. Oh wait. He's the Phantom. Of course. Only the Phantom could have a silent coffee sugar rush. Nope. Instead of asking myself that, I instead looked up at him. He had his hand in the cookie jar and his mouth full of cookies, the coffee pot sitting next to him, only a few drops left. But that wasn't the worst thing, oh no. It was what he was chanting in what was like words with hiccups. "Coffee coffee coffee coffee CHOCOLATE coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee COOKIES coffee coffee coffee coffee SUGAR…" While he was doing this, he was more or less bouncing as he sat, perfectly innocently oblivious to my growing wrath.

"Get. Down. Here. Now."

"Coffee coffee coffee coffee…"

"DOWN. HERE. NOW!"

"Chocolate cookies sugar coffee chocolate coffee cookies sugar…" _THUD!_ He looked up at me from the floor, pouting. "Might I ask what that was for, Mademoiselle?"

"You wouldn't listen! So I pulled you by the leg off of the fridge!" I sang before walking over to the sink and grabbing the dishcloth. Throwing it to him, I forced a smile. "Happy clean up. I'm going to bed."

**A/N: Next(and last…*sob*) chapter coming soon! Stay tuned, and as always, feedback is more than welcome!**


	10. Time To Say Goodbye

**A/N: Okay guys...you knew this was coming...last chapter...grab a few hundred tissues and meet back here. Because this gets waaay more emotional than a comedy should, and yet when inspiration hits, you gotta use it or it will be hanging over your head the rest of your life. As always, I own nothing.**

** Saturday morning, **I awoke to a voice in my room. _Oh no. Not again._ But it wasn't Erik this time, that was for sure. And it was actually coming from the attic. My heart sank, but I stumbled over to the closet door anyway. It was a woman's voice, somewhat distant, and a thick French accent. "Erik? Erik are you here?" Madame Giry. It had to be.

I knew this day would come eventually, and yet...

My hand on the doorknob, I hesitated before unlocking the door. Peering into the dim morning light, I saw a blue glow in the shape of a doorway. A tall figure was silhouetted on the other side, holding what appeared to be a torch. My mind raced back to the last scene of the movie. The curtain. But if she stepped through...

So _that_ was it. "Madame Giry! Don't come any closer, and don't ask who I am. Erik will be there shortly, just...stay there!" I called. I slammed the door shut—no need to send any of the cats through time and space while I was getting Erik...

As I flew out of my room, the Indian blanket fell off the top of the doorway and dropped over me. Not wanting to waste any time by pulling it off of me, I barged into the bedroom where Erik was, expecting him to be sitting up, awake. Nope. Instead, he was curled up in a ball, snoring and clutching a white teddy bear to his chest. Oh where was my camera? Wait! No time! Sighing, I tapped him on the shoulder. He rolled over, slowly opening his eyes...

"YIPES!" He flew out of bed and across the room. "Don't you dare come any closer, you...you..."

"Erik, it's me!" I sighed impatiently.

"Sarah! The blanket! It swallowed you!" He cried.

"It didn't either! Look!" I pulled the blanket off of me, not caring what he thought about my hair getting all staticy.

"Don't DO that to me!" Erik clutched his chest and stumbled back to the bed. "And how dare you...I was actually sleeping with no nightmares!"

"Yes, I'm sorry about that Erik, I really am, but..." The tiniest tear was making its way out the corner of my eye, and I turned my face away.

"What is it?" His voice was full of concern, despite all the chaos, arguments, and confusion this week had held.

"I...found your way back..."

"And you're sad about that? I would think you'd be thrilled...after all the trouble I caused you..."

"Erik, you were no trouble, and I'm sorry for making you feel like it. I actually enjoyed having you here." I heard his footsteps, and then felt his hands on my shoulders. He whirled me around, pulling me into a hug. That did it. Erik. The Phantom of the Opera. The one who had loved Christine with all he had and yet spent his life in solitude, was hugging. And he was hugging _me_. I buried my face into his chest then, and we stood there for about five minutes. Just as quickly, I pulled away. "We must hurry...I told her not to come through...I hope she listened..." I started for the door, and he followed me.

"Come through what? And who?" He asked as we stopped outside the closet door.

"You'll see..." I slowly opened the door, and we went to the foot of the stairs.

"Erik? Who is that with you?" Antoinette was saying.

"I'm here, Antoinette! I'm coming...stay there!" Erik called before turning back to me.

"So...I guess this is..."

"Don't say it. Please." He covered my mouth with his hand, then pulled me back into my bedroom. "Before I go, Mademoiselle, I just have one question." I nodded with a sigh...I was expecting questions. I could only wonder why he had waited this long. "In that..." He pointed to the TV, and I figured he was referring to the movie. "You told me to ignore the colorless scenes. But I couldn't...after all, it was my monkey they were auctioning off, I deserve to know." I sighed again, but didn't stop him. "Who was that man? Where was he going with my music box?"

"Erik..."

"Sarah...please...I need to know..." In all the time he'd been here, he had never said my name with so much tenderness. But then this was the same man who could make me melt just by singing a single note of 'Music of the Night'(sanely). Tearing up again, I sat down on the bed, motioning for him to join me.

"It was Raoul...he...he needed the music box as a gift...for Christine..." I was looking at my hands, knowing that as soon as I looked past his mask and into his eyes, everything would come flying out of my mouth...Christine's death...the rose and the ring...the fact that one day man would walk on the moon...

"Christine...but if that was Raoul, then..." I dared to look up at him then, and I could almost see his mind working. "He was sad on the journey...Sarah, where was Christine?"

"Erik, it doesn't matter what I say! Those scenes took place decades after the time you left...anything could happen between then and...er...then..." He stood up then and began pacing the floor.

"You're right...anything could happen..." He was smirking now, and I didn't like it.

"Erik, Christine...she'll be happy. She'll live a good long life...become a beloved wife and mother...with Raoul. She'll be happy...with Raoul..." Part of me told me to regret those words...to remember how dangerous he could be, especially at the mention of Christine. But it was the truth, I argued, and I didn't want to see him make a mistake. I grasped his arm, forcing him to stop pacing and pay attention. "I know you don't want to hear that. And I know you won't be able to let her go right away. But I beg of you Erik, to please keep her happiness in mind. Don't you think she deserves that?"

"She deserves the world...but only the good parts..." He lowered his head then, removing his new mask. "She deserves him. I know it now. But where does that leave me? Don't I deserve happiness?" Something new flashed in his eyes then. "Maybe I'll just stay here. I'm no good to them." He pointed to the closet doorway.

"That's not true. You haven't given them much chance. Before you came here, you were so focused on Christine that no one else seemed to exist. But now you've got a second chance. Use it. And Erik..." I stood up in front of him, placing my other hand on his other arm. "Do me just one favor. Talk to Meg. There's more to her than you know."

"I'll talk to her. At least I'll try to. But she won't listen...no one would listen..."

"Yes yes yes I know the song...but you don't know that Meg wouldn't listen. Not until you talk to her." He nodded with a sigh, and I released his arms. With nothing left to say, we slowly made our way back to the attic stairs. Just then, he whirled around.

"Mademoiselle, this week has been...shall we say...interesting. I don't know if I'll remember it or not when I go back through that curtain, but it has been a wonderful experience anyway. I...I want you to have this...to remember me by..." He handed me his mask, and I gasped. "Don't worry. I have many others."

"Thank you, Erik..." I choked. He pulled me into another hug, crushing my nose against his chest. It didn't matter. I managed to place the mask on one of the boxes in my closet before wrapping my own arms around him.

"Thank _you_, Mademoiselle, for accepting me into your home with friendship. It's something I've only dared to hope for...and you made it come true..."

"Oh Erik...must you say those things? I don't think I have any tears left..." My muffled voice sobbed. He pulled away then, brushing the rivers off my face.

"Erik this is ridiculous! You know I don't much care for your games! Where are you?" Madame Giry's shadow stomped her foot, and I managed a small laugh. I turned back to Erik, but he was already halfway up the stairs.

"Erik..." I took a step forward, and he whirled around once more.

"Don't say it, Sarah. Whenever you are wishing I were somehow here again, all I ask of you is that you think of me and look at your face in the mirror...the Phantom of the Opera will be there...inside your mind...singing the music of the night..."

"Okay, okay, I get the point!" I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Feeling better now?" He half-smirked. I pressed my lips together and nodded. He walked backwards up the stairs, making sure I didn't follow. Once he reached the blue glow, he stood up straight and bowed politely. "Mademoiselle..." I do believe that if he had a hat on at that moment, he'd be tipping it. Instead, he straightened, smiled, and stepped through the glow, and for a moment before the glow disappeared, I saw the shadow of two old friends reuniting with a hug. He'd be alright. I was sure of it.

**One year later...**

I threw open the closet door and groaned. So I had a habit of throwing my skirts and blouses into it rather than hanging them up. It was the cats' fault...they could never resist the urge to run through the open closet door and spend hours avoiding us while they explored. They always chose the cobweb areas. I HATED the cobweb areas.

But I digress. I was here with a mission...to bring some order to this closet once and for all. As I began sorting through the piles of stuff that could only be classified as stuff, I felt a light breeze coming from the attic. It shouldn't have phased me. After all, the attic was unfinished and uninsulated, full of holes and broken windows. And yet, in this particular breeze, I heard the faintest, tiniest note of organ music. As I turned around, a white square of paper floated down the stairs toward me, and I grabbed onto it before it could disappear in the chaos around me. The front was blank, but the back held a wax seal. Red, but it wasn't a skull. It was a rose. I paled, then grew excited, then paled again. _Erik..._it had to be. But how...

I tore open the envelope and pulled out a thick card, bordered in black.

_"Mademoiselle,_

_ It would be a great honor if you would grace us with your presence at the wedding celebrations for Monsieur Erik James Dupree and Mademoiselle Marguerite Elizabeth Giry at the Opera Populaire on the fifteenth day of the month of August, Eighteen-hundred and seventy-two. The ceremony will take place no later than three o' clock in the afternoon._

_ Sincerely,_

_ You Know Who. *smirk*"_

I KNEW it! Didn't I tell you, Erik? Didn't I? I almost laughed out loud right then and there. But...how did he expect me to get there? Just then, I heard the organ music again, much louder than before. I looked up and saw a familiar blue glow. Not wasting any time, I grabbed the most suitable dress, dug up my 'Phantomess' mask, scrawled a note to my family, closed the closet door, (so much for not wasting time) and raced up the stairs and through the glow...

**A/N: Part 2 of this story to come soon, entitled 'In Dreams I Went'. Stay tuned by subscribing to my stories! :)**


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